


Not that solo

by oviparous



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Humor, M/M, Non-Chronological, Non-Linear Narrative, Road Trips, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9079330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oviparous/pseuds/oviparous
Summary: Crack; in which Ohno and Aiba transport stuff across the Japanese mainland in an RV, Jun wears a fedora and seems to be a bit of a douche, Nino miraculously emerges from a car accident unscathed, and Sho spends the entirety of the fic in a penguin suit. (Note: Events are not written in order.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coolohoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolohoh/gifts).



> Warnings: NON-CHRONOLOGICAL NARRATIVE, lots of profanity, numerous sexual references, caricatured Arashi, Ohno being a very bad boy
> 
> Originally for coolohoh @ LJ's 2016 fishing_mj exchange :D

+++

The number is Nino’s, but Ohno immediately knows who the message is from.

_IT’S A MAGICAL CIRCLE!!!!!!! —Sho_

Ohno just throws his head back and laughs.

***

The lights on the motorway cast a pattern of shadows on Aiba’s face, and Ohno tries to afford discretion as he finds himself staring.

Aiba is so pretty, it makes his insides _ache_.

Then a snore comes from the back, and Ohno turns to scowl at Matsumoto for breaking his concentration.

Matsumoto has certainly made himself comfortable, having lain down across the length of the bench seat, his fedora over his face. Ohno aims a venomous glare at the silly hat.

“You don’t like him?” Aiba angles his head towards Matsumoto before meeting Ohno’s eyes, and Ohno makes the mistake of looking right back at the gorgeous; he can’t speak when he’s faced with this - _this_.

“I understand,” sighs Aiba, nodding, taking Ohno’s silence for agreement. He reaches over to rub Ohno’s thigh comfortingly.

…Fuck this ridiculous heat in his face fuck fuck _fuuuuuck_.

“Didn’t you see how he was throwing his weight around just now?” manages Ohno, hoping that using words would siphon his stupid. He looks down at his hands, mumbling: “Not like he’s the boss of us.”

“Actually, he sort of is, being our client.” Aiba laughs. “Just for tonight, yeah? He’s not too bad, Ohno-san. Just cranky when sleep-deprived.”

Ohno raises his eyebrows, remembering how the two interacted when they first saw Matsumoto at the warehouse.

“So you know him well?”

“I know him okay.” Aiba gives a shy smile. “Slept with him a bunch of times.”

Ohno gapes at Aiba’s nonchalant confession, feels his stomach turn.

“So he’s your ex?”

“Kind of. We were never really together.”

Ohno takes this to mean they just had a lot of meaningless sex.

…Fuck. He shouldn’t have pictured it.

“It was my fault we didn’t work out. He wanted to sleep around; I was ready for a serious relationship.”

“Oh,” is all Ohno can manage without bursting out in song, because _fuck_ is Ohno looking for commitment, they should totally be together, why the fuck is he even hesitating, oh god.

This is it. He has to tell Aiba how he feels, Matsumoto’s presence in the RV be damned.

Fisting his hands atop his knees, Ohno takes a deep breath.

“Ohno-san,” Aiba interrupts, pointing out the windscreen and frowning, “do you see that?”

***

They’re off the motorway now, on a national route that runs across Aichi Prefecture, and they’ll only get back on when they enter Shizuoka. Venus Transport helps their clients cut costs like this; tolls aren’t exactly cheap.

Sakurai is right at the back of the van, sitting on the bed, gazing forlornly at the penguin head he’s set on his lap. Ohno wonders how the fuck does one get into a fancy dress party that ends in Satanic worship.

Maybe he’ll ask Sakurai when he’s feeling better.

A loud yawn from Aiba makes Ohno turn away from watching Sakurai in the rearview mirror; Ohno touches Aiba’s shoulder, and suddenly he feels like every nerve ending is on fire and he can’t breathe because it hurts so much to _want_.

Fuck love. _Fuck_ love and all its horny misery, _fuck_.

“You should rest.” Ohno strokes Aiba’s shoulder with his thumb, braving the fresh wave of sensory malfunction. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“It’s just one straight road.”

“Okay.” Aiba rubs his eyes, stretches, turns on his side to face the window. “Thanks, Oh-chan,” he says sleepily.

Ohno freezes. Aiba has never called him ‘Oh-chan’ before.

Was it just a friendly address? Or was Aiba hinting at something more? God, does Aiba know Ohno is completely hung up on him? WAS AIBA TRYING TO—

No.

Aiba’s like this, Ohno thinks in disappointment. There’s a guy at work who joined Venus the same time Ohno did; Aiba’s just started calling him ‘Kazapon’. And then there’s the slightly insolent ‘Matsu-nii’ and ‘Ken-chan’ that Aiba reserves for those senpai.

It’s just an Aiba thing, Ohno tells himself. It’s nothing special.

God, but why? Why isn’t it anything special? Why does Aiba have to be super nice to everyone, see the good in everyone? Hell, he can even see the good in _Matsumoto_ , and Ohno just feels inferior and wicked and ugly on the inside, and it’s killing him that he’ll never be good enough for Aiba, and wait IS THAT A CAR WHY THE FUCK DOES IT NOT HAVE ITS TAIL LIGHTS ON—

There’s an almighty crash, and Ohno rear ends the _kei_ in front of them so hard that he sends it skidding into a closed up petrol station by the side of the road.

_Shit._

Aiba wakes up with a jump.

“Sorry, sorry—” moans Ohno, melding his foot to the brake, his life flashing before him. The people in the car must be dead, _he’s_ so dead, shit—

“Don’t panic,” says Aiba, flicking a switch near them, and the lights in the van come on. “Park by the pavement.”

“Fuck, what happened?” Matsumoto groans, massaging his back as he gets up from the floor.

“Is everyone all right?” Aiba twists around to look at their passengers.

Ohno anxiously checks on Sakurai and Matsumoto in the rearview mirror. He sees Sakurai staring at Matsumoto with an incredulous expression on his face.

“You’re the guy from last night!” Sakurai points.

Matsumoto squints. “Oh, hey. I see you decided on the penguin. Personally I’d have picked the swan. Really showed off your abs.”

Ohno decides they’re fine. Their speech functions aren’t impaired, as far as he can tell. Now he needs to get outside and check on the car he’s hit.

Fuck.

As he disembarks the van and tracks across the concrete, Ohno feels like he’s in a nightmare. This has been his worst fear ever since he started driving. He’s going to lose his licence, his job, and he won’t get to see Aiba again because he’ll be in fucking _jail_ , oh god.

***

Ohno doesn’t just want to get into Aiba’s pants.

He also wants to get into his heart.

Ohno pinks as he thinks this, finally admitting it to himself.

Ohno knows he doesn’t look like a _FEELIIIIIIINGS!!!!_ kind of guy, but boy is he one. He sometimes finds himself so chock full of emotions that he thinks he might’ve been one of those tormented artists in his past life, going mad as they sculpted clay and other epic shit, except in Ohno’s case he just gets drunk in his living room and cries a lot.

And thinking about Aiba gets him drunk and crying a lot, mainly because Aiba’s completely out of his league.

He hasn’t known Aiba that long—five months, thereabouts—but he’s perfect. It’s not just because Aiba is fucking beautiful, no, it’s because Aiba is a good person: genuine and kind and sensitive and treats everyone with respect. He’s also the most hard-working person Ohno has ever met.

Ohno will never be good enough for Aiba.

Ohno sees the irony. They’re employed by a logistics company that has no problem servicing criminals, providing vehicles and manpower for the transportation of contraband. Venus Transport does have plenty of unsuspecting, honest enterprises in their clientele and a large network of individual customers, but the year-end ‘secret bonus’ that they dole out to their employees in cold, hard Yukichis hints that a significant portion of their revenue is undeclared and very likely from illegal sources.

Aiba’s been at the job longer; he was the one who showed Ohno the ropes. It’s still a mystery to Ohno why Aiba’s working for the company.

For Ohno, it’d been a natural progression. He hadn’t been on moral high ground to begin with. He’d been a full-time ticket scalper for years, and the market had been great for a while until a bunch of artistes came together and campaigned against his livelihood.

Fuckers.

With the music industry breathing down his neck, Ohno knew he had to find another way to survive. He needed a new plan. A new skill.

He went to get his driver’s licence—at a proper place too, the type where the instructors wore uniforms and they rap on your desk when you so much as dip your chin during boring-as-fuck traffic safety DVD screenings. Months later, with the help of his equally shady friends who pulled some strings for an interview, he ended up becoming a runner for Venus, and apparently it’d been the driver’s licence that clinched him the job.

“There,” says Aiba, pointing to a figure in the parking lot of the warehouse where they’ve arranged to meet the client.

Jobs like these don’t require them to wear their company uniforms, and the vehicle they’re using tonight is an incognito one that doesn’t bear the company insignia. Ohno manoeuvres the camper van further into the compound, parks sloppily—they’re going to have to drive it into the warehouse soon, anyway—and climbs out of the vehicle.

“That is some shitty parking,” a snide voice remarks, and as the speaker comes into view, Ohno hears Aiba let out a funny noise. Ohno barely registers Aiba’s reaction; he’s busy flipping the guy off in his head for the unnecessary comment.

“Hey,” the guy greets as he sets his eyes on Aiba.

Aiba just nods, giving him a smile that looks a little forced. “Wasn’t it supposed to be Ikuta-kun tonight?”

“He switched with me last minute.”

“I see. Well, please take care of us,” says Aiba, more perfunctory than polite. Ohno assumes they’ve met on the job before and is kinda thrilled Aiba seems to have a less-than-favourable impression of the guy.

“Wait a minute—is this a _camper van_?” the stranger asks, turning his attention to the vehicle.

Ohno feels a flash of annoyance at the man’s disdainful tone. He takes in the pompous designer suit, the carefully groomed eyebrows.

Too bad, Ohno thinks, how these things can’t hide a shit personality.

“Yes. Your side requested a freight capacity of two tonnes,” says Ohno flatly.

“We were expecting a truck.”

“No trucks tonight.”

“Why the fuck not?! It’s always been trucks!”

“Consider the season. Most of our fleet is busy moving furniture for teenagers and relocating families.”

“Fuck.” The client sighs, shaking his head. “Whatever. All right. We’re lucky tonight’s cargo isn’t bulky.”

He looks at Ohno. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Matsumoto,” he says, crooking a finger towards the half-open shutters of the warehouse. “Come with me.”

A minute later Ohno and Aiba are standing in front of a hundred crates of—

“ _Umeboshi_ ,” says Matsumoto, making a grand sweeping gesture over the soon-to-be consignment, “Wakayama’s finest.”

In the five months he’s spent helping to move illegal goods into, out of and across the country, Ohno has only been given clues about the contents of his cargo on two occasions: the first, when the client let slip that it was Serbian electronics; the second, when he had to wear a gas mask throughout the entire job to ‘prevent hallucinations in case of a leak’.

And tonight they’re moving pickled plums.

 _Two tonnes_ of pickled plums.

“This the weirdest thing I’ve ever transported,” Ohno tells Aiba in a low voice.

“Good on you. I’ve encountered a half-tonne shipment of horse manure.”

“…You win. This doesn’t trump animal shit.”

“Yeah. It even came with the horses.”

“Like I said, you win.”

At Matsumoto’s behest, several workers come forward and are instructed to listen to how Ohno and Aiba want them to pack the bags of umeboshi into the camper van.

The van was the bosses’ idea—they’re big on staff welfare, and wanted to provide the runners with a portable washroom and a place to sleep, since drives can last a whole day. They’ve gotten six RVs remodelled; goods can now be hidden inside hollowed-out seats, under floorboards, inside carefully crafted storage spaces behind appliances. In the case of a nosey police officer stopping them for a routine check, it’d be hard for them to find anything incriminating.

It takes about an hour for all 200 sealed plastic bags of umeboshi to be packed neatly into every secret compartment, and even the haughty Matsumoto looks impressed after the packing is done and there is no hint of the cargo in sight.

“All right then. Let’s go,” says Matsumoto, plopping down on the bench seat.

Aiba stares. “You’re coming with us?”

“I need a lift to Yokohama, yes.”

Ohno makes a move to retrieve the clipboard with the invoice, but Matsumoto lets out an impatient noise.

“Come on, don’t be so calculative. With our bosses’ friendship, this isn’t something you need to bill us for.”

Ohno looks at Aiba for help. Aiba gives the tiniest shake of his head— _leave it_ , Aiba’s telling him—and turns to Matsumoto.

“We’re scheduled to arrive Yokohama tomorrow at 7:30 AM.”

Matsumoto kicks off his fancy shoes, stretches out on the seat. “Nice. Wake me up at a service area.”

“Okay.”

“But only after midnight.”

“All right.” Aiba settles himself in the driver’s seat and straps on his seatbelt.

“And only if the place has a Starbucks.”

“Got it.”

Ohno fumes. No one should order Aiba around like this. Especially not fuck-hats like Matsumoto.

“All set?” Aiba asks Ohno, his smile a sweet, sweet balm to Ohno’s irritation.

“Yeah,” Ohno grunts, throwing Matsumoto one last dirty look before buckling himself into his seat.

***

It’s two in the morning and there aren’t any other vehicles on the road, thank god.

The petrol station is definitely closed up; there’s an office void of furniture, and through the glass Ohno can see that there’s a thick carpet of dust on the floor. The fuel dispensers have no hoses or nozzles, and the zinc on the ceiling has been consumed by rust.

As Ohno approaches the _kei_ cautiously, a hand slips into his.

“Don’t worry,” says Aiba, squeezing his fingers. “Things like that happen in our line of work.”

Ohno is thankful for the concern, but it doesn’t make him feel better. “I probably killed—”

They jump when the door on the driver’s side swings open and someone stumbles out of the car.

“God,” he groans, cracking the joints in his neck by pushing his chin back and forth with the heel of his hand.

Ohno lets go of Aiba, gives him a reassuring nod. He’ll be fine.

“Excuse me…” Ohno ventures, stepping closer.

“Did you hit my car?” The man’s voice is loud in the night, his tone sharp.

Ohno is relieved—surely someone who’s badly hurt won’t sound this robust?

As they approach each other, stepping into the light offered by the street lamps, Ohno sees the man’s face.

His jaw drops.

“ _Nino_?”

“Oh, my god. _Oh-chan_?!”

They stand rooted to the spot for a moment, then Nino rushes up for a hug.

“It’s been so long! How are you?”

Ohno is dazed; this is _Nino_ —looking as boyish and stunning as he did all those years ago, maybe he really did discover the secret to eternal fuck-worthiness like he once vowed he would—and it should be awkward, but it isn’t; not yet, maybe.

“I-I’m great, working in logistics, you?”

“Well, I just got hit by a car,” Nino deadpans, before he takes a step back to look at the vehicle Ohno was driving, “—oh wow, it’s an RV. I could’ve fucking died.”

Nino laughs.

“You sure you're okay? You’re not hurt?” Ohno asks, patting Nino’s arms, back and legs.

“I’m fine.” Nino turns to look at the car. “This piece of crap, though… It’s been breaking down quite a bit lately, I haven’t found the time or money to go get it serviced. Airbags and seatbelt definitely working, but you know what? We should stand further away, it just might catch—”

Smoke starts coming out from the bonnet.

“Fuck,” Ohno and Nino say collectively as the bottom of the car bursts into flames, and they take a huge leap backwards.

“I’m really sorry,” moans Ohno, turning towards Nino, pressing his palms together and dipping his head.

“It’s okay, though I guess we should call the fire department—” Nino takes out his phone.

Ohno is about to agree, when he remembers he’s _on the job_.

Shit. The plums. Matsumoto.

He claps a hand on Nino’s, stopping him from hitting ‘Call’.

“You can’t call the fire department.” Ohno takes a deep breath. “In fact, I would very much prefer it if no one knew about this.”

Nino stares at Ohno, then laughs.

“You’re kidding, right? I mean, we’ve got a flaming car by the side of the road, there’s no way we can hide this…” Nino trails off as he sees the expression on Ohno’s face.

“You’re actually _serious_?”

“I’m working right now,” Ohno tries to explain, “I drive this RV, it’s my job, and there’s a schedule and my client’s actually riding back to Yokohama with us tonight… Nino, I can’t afford to stay here and get this settled, or risk the traffic police coming near my cargo.”

Nino narrows his eyes. “Oh-chan, are you still involved with gangsters?”

“Yes and no. It’s… It’s less complicated now.”

Ohno gives Nino a pleading look.

Nino sighs. “I think your friend’s coming to put out the fire,” he says, pointing with his chin.

Sure enough, Aiba’s running over from the van, fire extinguisher in hand.

“I’ll take care of it!” Aiba calls, stopping a few feet in front of the car. “You keep on negotiating!”

Ohno feels a blinding surge of affection for Aiba before he remembers _now is not the time_ , and turns to Nino.

“Nino, I’ll pay you back. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay you.”

Nino nods. “Fine. But you’re not leaving me here.”

“Huh?”

“Why do you think I was driving at two in the morning? I have someplace to be.”

“Wait, you want to ride with us?!”

Nino shrugs. “You said you’re going to Yokohama. I’m headed there too. After robbing me of my only means of transport, the least you could do is to drop me off somewhere close.”

Why the fuck is everyone headed to Yokohama tonight?

“What about the car?” asks Ohno. “You can’t just leave it here; someone has to be responsible for it.”

Nino gives a noncommittal wave of his hand before scrolling through the contacts on his phone. “I have a friend living a block away. I can just tell him my shit excuse of a car finally gave up on me and caught fire by the side of the road, and I hitchhiked my way out of here because I have that Very Important Thing tomorrow, and he’ll take care of it.”

“He’ll do that for you?”

“He owes me a favour; I came to Aichi to help him out. Don’t worry.” Nino winks. “You know I’m excellent at getting my way.”

Nino steps away to make the call to his friend, and Ohno walks over to Aiba, who’s just put down the fire extinguisher.

“Thank god it was just the front part!” exclaims Aiba, mopping his brow. “What about the owner? You know him?”

Ohno is suddenly uncomfortable; saying Nino is ‘a friend’ seems weirdly evasive. Then again, it’s not like Ohno’s special to Aiba.

Fuck it. Nino’s a friend.

“We were neighbours for a while and went to high school together,” says Ohno. “We used to be quite close.”

“Cool! So he’s not too pissed about the car? I don’t think he’s driving it anytime soon, it looks bad.”

Ohno sucks air through his teeth. “About that, Aiba-san—can he come along with us? He hopes we can give him a ride to Yokohama. He’s got to be there by morning, it seems.”

“Sure!” says Aiba immediately. “There’s still room, and he was really nice about not pursuing the matter.”

Ohno squeezes his eyes shut to keep himself from telling Aiba how he _fucking loves him_.

Nino comes back with an update.

“My friend’s on his way. We can go,” says Nino, keeping his phone into his back pocket. He gives Aiba an amiable smile. “Hi. I’m Ninomiya. Call me Nino.”

“I’m Aiba.” Aiba smiles back. “Oh-chan and I work together.”

There it is again. _Oh-chan_. Oh god.

As they walk to the RV, Nino says: “To tell you the truth, Oh-chan, I’m kind of glad you trashed my car. I’ve been having some major financial problems recently. Haven’t even got the money to change the small lights at the back.”

“You? Financial problems?” Ohno knows Nino’s very good with money; he’s the last person Ohno would expect to have a lack of it. “What happened?”

“Had a falling out with my business partner.” Nino shakes his head. “He’s—”

Nino stops dead in his tracks.

“Sho,” Nino breathes, staring.

Ohno and Aiba follow Nino’s line of vision to Sakurai, who’s standing by the entrance of the RV looking right back at Nino, shock and displeasure etched on his face.

***

“I really should be sleeping,” Aiba grumbles from the passenger seat, “that’s the point of having two drivers!”

“But Aiba-san—fate brought the five of us together! The least you could do is to talk to us,” says Nino, and Ohno just _marvels_ —Nino is so cocksure of his conversation skills, and rightfully so, because so far Nino has managed to get Aiba to talk about his ideal date, his favourite colour, his favourite song, his love of fried chicken; basically all the Aiba-trivia Ohno has craved to learn but never dared to ask about.

“Oh, oh! I have one,” Sho speaks up, “ideal birthday present?”

Ohno grins. Sho isn’t too bad himself. He got Aiba to tell them the names of the peacocks that lived in his grandparents’ yard when he was a kid.

“Your birthday’s Christmas Eve, right?” Matsumoto asks Aiba. “Do people do that thing where they give you a two-in-one present?”

“They totally do,” Aiba answers, a faint moan in his voice, and Ohno silently vows to never commit that sin.

“Ohno-kun, what’s your ideal birthday present?” asks Sho.

“My ideal birthday present…” Ohno takes a second to think about this. “A fishing lure, I guess. I fish in my spare time.”

“I didn’t know that!” Aiba exclaims. “You’d have to take me sometime.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Ohno’s skin tingles as he thinks about how Aiba has unwittingly set up a date for them.

“How about you, Aiba-san? Ideal birthday present?”

“A vacation would be nice. Maybe to some tropical country, spend my birthday in warm weather. I’ve never done that before.”

“I hope you’re taking notes,” Matsumoto whispers in Ohno’s ear, from the side of the driver’s seat furthest away from Aiba.

Ohno nods. He’s keeping up. Anything about Aiba is going to be fucking branded into his memory, no doubt about it.

Also, this let’s-get-Aiba-kun-and-Ohno-kun-to-talk-about-what-they-have-in-common plan that the three goons hatched?

Genius.

“Do you guys have any foods you hate?” Nino suddenly asks. “Because I _despise_ anything raw.”

“No way! You can’t eat sushi, then?”

“Hate most of it.”

“How about you, Aiba-san?”

“If I had to spell it out, well… I really don’t like umeboshi.”

Ohno takes his eyes briefly off the road to look at him in surprise, and Aiba’s sporting this cheek-aching grin that’s obviously saying _yes I know what’s under our feet at this very moment_ , and Ohno just loses it. Aiba laughs along with him, and soon they’re wheezing, tears in the corners of their eyes.

“What’s the joke?” Sho asks, puzzled, and Nino says he doesn’t know; it’s Aiba’s and Ohno’s secret.

Ohno wonders why Matsumoto hasn’t made a comment yet, then he hears his voice floating over from the back of the van.

“Yeah, I’m still with them,” says Matsumoto, and then there’s a pause, “ _What_? So Yokohama’s a no-go? All right. Fine, be careful. Yeah. I’ll get them to reroute. Yeah, later.”

Aiba’s heard the phone call too; he turns to meet Matsumoto, who sighs and says:

“The Yokohama venue’s gotten a bit dangerous, there’s been a skirmish… My boss asks if you could head to the Atami meet-up point instead? We’ll still pay for the full journey, of course.”

“Yeah, sure.” Aiba inputs the new venue into the navigation system. “Atami’s coming up in an hour, actually.”

For the first time that night Ohno is genuinely relieved Matsumoto is with them. If they missed the memo and headed to Yokohama anyway, they might have gotten into gang trouble; Ohno knows from experience that just _being_ at the scene of a skirmish can seriously fuck your life up.

Matsumoto turns to Sho and Nino. “Sorry for the change of plans. If we were going to Yokohama we could’ve dropped you off first, but now that we’re going to Atami, you guys can’t be around when we unload the goods.”

“Why not?” asks Nino.

“We shouldn’t involve you. You guys aren’t part of either of our organisations.”

“ _Jun-kun_ ,” says Nino with a sigh, and it makes Ohno shudder, because that’s the voice Nino uses when _Nino knows best_.

In a carnal way.

“The moment we got on this van we’ve been involved,” Nino continues, “and we’re perfectly fine helping you to move the goods or do whatever it is you deem fit.”

“Yeah, I can help too.”

“Sho-san, you’re basically a glorified ornament, no offence.”

“I can stay here and look cute.”

“This spot you’re in—you’re actually sitting on five hundred kilos of cargo, did you know that?”

“What?!”

“Jun-kun’s saying you’d be fucking _in the way_.”

Ohno tunes out the conversation, letting the three sort out the details of the Atami stop by themselves. He glances at Aiba, who’s fast asleep in the passenger seat.

Ohno smiles. The night is drawing to an end a little earlier than he thought, and thinking about it, it really hasn’t been that bad.

***

“We didn’t break up because we were drifting apart,” answers Sakurai angrily, “we broke up because we were in a _fucking power struggle_!”

“That’s all in your head!” Nino bellows back, thumping his fist on the table. “You fucking _overthink_ , Sho. All the fucking time!”

Ohno looks back and forth between the two, panic building in his chest. They’ve been arguing for ages.

Ohno has garnered this from their quarrel: they’d carried their relationship troubles over to the workplace, which led to Nino leaving their company, but it wasn’t official yet, and he hadn’t tied up loose ends before he left and Sakurai was _holding on to the penguin_ , whatever the significance of that was—it’s all really messed up, and Ohno wishes he isn’t, in the most literal sense, caught in the middle.

Buffer, his ass.

“ _You’re_ the one who packed up and left! _I_ wanted to sort things out!” Sakurai retorts.

“I left the office; you left our apartment!”

“What was I supposed to do? _You left the office!_ You’ve never left the office!”

Ohno hates confrontation, even if it doesn’t involve him. He throws a pleading look at his companions in the cab, but they’re bent on leaving Ohno alone to deal with the squabbling pair—Aiba is staring stolidly at the road in front of them, and Matsumoto shifts his hat over his face without so much as a backwards glance.

Heartless fuckers.

“Guys…” bleats Ohno, holding up his hands at Sakurai and Nino. “Please.”

Nino takes one look at Ohno and snarls:

“You know, sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I never broke up with Oh-chan. He never made me feel this way.”

There is a deafening silence. Then—

“Wait, what?” asks Aiba.

***

Ohno follows Aiba’s finger; it’s pointing out the windscreen to what looks like a man-sized penguin standing by the side of the barrier.

Impatient not to let the courage he’s mustered up fade away, Ohno says: “You know how sometimes businesses have mascots by the side of the road, waving to cars to—”

“We’re on a major expressway, Ohno-san.” Aiba has already slowed down. He checks the mirrors and signals left. “That’s no promoter.”

Ohno looks at Aiba in horror, shelving his plan of telling Aiba he loves him.

“Aiba-san, are you stopping—?”

“Of course I’m stopping. It’s not safe for him to be there.”

Ohno knows Aiba is a fucking _saint_ , but they’re also carrying two tonnes of stolen pickles.

“Aiba-san, our cargo… and _Matsumoto_ ,” says Ohno frantically, remembering that their client is travelling with them. Oh god.

“Matsujun’s only waking up at a rest stop that has a Starbucks _after midnight_. He won’t know a thing if we drop this guy off earlier,” whispers Aiba.

Spurred by the discomfort at having heard Aiba call Matsumoto by a more endearing term— _Matsujun_ , the hell?—Ohno finds himself desperate to get into Aiba’s good books, and simply nods.

Aiba parks on the shoulder, and together they climb out of the van. Ohno approaches the guy more cautiously; Aiba just straight up marches towards him.

“Excuse me, are you okay?” asks Aiba, and as he draws closer Ohno can see a large penguin head set on the ground beside the man, completing his costume.

The guy looks like he could be their age, and is actually quite handsome—large eyes, full lips, all soft edges. He also looks fucking scared.

“I - I think I am,” says the man, his voice quivering. “There’s no pain.” He wraps his arms (flippers?) around his body as he averts his eyes.

“I don’t really remember what happened,” he finally says, bracing his forehead with what would be his fingers if they can be seen.

As discreetly as he can, Ohno sniffs. He doesn’t smell alcohol. The guy isn’t wasted, at the very least.

Aiba exchanges a quick look with Ohno.

 _Maybe he’s high?_ mouths Ohno, and Aiba nods.

Better high than dangerous, Ohno thinks. This man better not turn out to be some fucking Jason Voorhees; penguin heads are just one material away from hockey masks, and Ohno’s pretty sure that costume can hide a machete.

“What’s your name?” asks Aiba gently, changing his approach.

“Sakurai Sho,” the man replies slowly, like the words are taking an immense effort.

“Okay, Sakurai-san. I’m Aiba, and this is Ohno. Could we take you someplace safe?”

Sakurai immediately looks wary.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” assures Aiba. “You’re on the Nishi Meihan Expressway, and the nearest service area is tens of kilometres away.”

Sakurai actually looks surprised at this bit of information. “You’re serious?”

Aiba nods.

Sakurai blinks several times, as if trying to recall something. “I was at this fancy dress party, invited by my clients…” Sakurai lets out a gasp, and his mouth falls open.

“They started praying to Satan!”

“Huh?” Ohno utters in disbelief.

“Then they made me drink this awful tea, it tasted like _sweaty socks_ —” Sakurai pauses, shaking his head as if to clear it. He looks down, pulls the front of his suit away from him, and yelps.

“They took my clothes! And my phone and wallet were in my pants! Oh, no, no, no, no, no—” Sakurai starts tearing at his hair, but he can’t because his hands are in those ridiculous flippers. He groans, collapsing onto the floor, and for one horrific moment Ohno thinks he’s going to smash his head on the ground but thankfully the costume cushions his fall.

Ohno has never seen panic like this. He feels really sorry for Sakurai.

“Look, we’re not bad people,” Ohno says, and it’s not entirely a lie, “so if you’d like, you’re welcome to travel with us for a bit until we can drop you off at a train station or something. We can pay your fare.”

Sakurai looks up at them sadly as he lies on the asphalt. “I live in Yokohama. I was just in Kansai on a business trip. You’d have to loan me quite a bit of money.”

Aiba’s face lights up. “Yokohama?”

Ohno closes his eyes. No, Aiba. _No._

“ _We’re_ going to Yokohama!” says Aiba excitedly. “We could take you home!”

Ohno pinches the bridge of his nose. “Aiba-san. We have that passenger in our van?”

Aiba waves Ohno’s comment away. “He’ll do me the favour if I ask nicely.”

Ohno gives the still-supine Sakurai a sweet smile, asking him to hang on, before pulling Aiba roughly to the side.

“You are _not_ having sex with Matsumoto just so this guy can ride in our van,” Ohno says, unable to contain his hatred of the idea. “I won’t allow it.”

Aiba’s jaw goes slack. Then he explodes into a laugh.

“Matsujun’s actually a nice person, Ohno-san! I won’t have to do anything for him to say okay to this!” Aiba’s eyes crinkle adorably as he puts a hand on Ohno’s arm and squeezes it.

“Thanks, though,” says Aiba, before turning back to Sakurai.

Ohno wants to crawl into a hole and die a slow, punishing death from the flames that are burning his face off. It’s official; he is _dumb as fuck_. Why did he have to shoot his mouth off like that? He basically just called Aiba a whore.

“Sakurai-san! This way.” Aiba beckons to Sakurai enthusiastically, taking a step towards the van.

Sakurai writhes on the ground, kicking, struggling to get up.

“Sorry, this suit—” he whimpers, and Ohno sighs before heading over to pull him up, knowing the night can’t get any weirder.

***

Ohno wants to _fucking kill Nino_.

Nino and his big mouth. God. Why couldn’t he just reserve it for the blowjobs he had such a formidable talent for? Why did he have to use it to fucking _talk_?

Ohno looks towards the driver’s seat, but he can’t see Aiba’s expression from his spot at the back.

Then again, Aiba has no cause to be bothered by what Nino has just said. The person Ohno should be more concerned about is Sakurai—he _is_ (also) Nino’s ex.

Sakurai is just sitting there, mouth agape at Ohno and Nino. For some reason, his eyes flick to Matsumoto.

Ohno tries to sound casual as he starts explaining. “It was a long time ago. High school.”

Nino is looking uncomfortable now, but it’s not because of Sakurai—it’s because Ohno is glaring daggers at him.

“Secret teenaged gay love, no big deal,” says Nino, solitary in his laughter.

Nobody says a word.

“Well, I’m sorry I asked!” says Aiba, suddenly breaking the silence with his cheer. “Didn’t mean to pry! Oh look—a Starbucks! Let’s stop here. Matsujun, wake up! Starbucks, ta daaaah.”

Aiba pulls into the parking lot.

“ _Great_ , a space right in front of the shops! We’re lucky we don’t have to keep circling, these service areas can get really crowded sometimes,” Aiba lapses into incessant chatter, “but seeing that it’s almost four in the morning I guess it’s just natural we find a good space immediately, huh? You guys go ahead, I’ll be right here, I need a nap, come back in twenty minutes, go go go—”

At Aiba’s urging everyone obediently files out of the camper van (with the exception of Sakurai, who hops), though Ohno remembers to tell Aiba he’ll switch with him after the break.

Aiba just returns his statement with a thumbs up and a huge grin.

Once they’ve alighted, Ohno pulls Nino away from the van. He stops when he thinks they’re far enough, right in front of some vending machines.

“I didn’t appreciate your blabbing about our past like that,” Ohno says unhappily, letting go of Nino’s arm.

Nino immediately rubs the spot Ohno had clung on to. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, meeting Ohno’s eyes. “I looked at you and had all these weird feelings—you can’t blame me for losing my cool; you’re the guy I first loved. Sho’s the guy I last loved. And you guys were right there in front of me. Together. In the same space.”

Ohno and Nino stare at each other.

Then they explode into laughter.

“Whoa, awkward!”

“ _So_ awkward!”

“True, though!”

“True but _AWKWARD!_ ”

They double over, thwacking the other’s arm every few seconds, and when the laughter finally stops they find themselves a foot apart, staring at each other again.

Nino is looking very solemn.

“If this were a movie, this is the moment where we kiss feverishly,” he says.

A beat.

They crack up again.

“Kissing you!” Nino howls, cradling his belly.

“I don’t want to kiss you!” Ohno wipes tears from his eyes as he lets out laugh after stuttering laugh.

“Thank god, me neither!”

“So what if we lost our virginities to each other?!”

“I know, right? We were _seventeen_ , we hardly knew what we were doing, it probably didn’t even count!” cackles Nino.

At this, Ohno stops. Nino’s laughter dies.

“It totally does,” says Ohno, feeling hurt. “What are you saying?”

Nino looks mortified.

“…You sure you don’t want to kiss?” Nino tries.

Ohno stares, then turns to leave. Nino’s nonsense is one of a kind. He should’ve known better.

“Oh-chan, wait. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It counts. It was really bad, but it counts.” Nino hurriedly steps in front of Ohno, stopping him.

Ohno takes in Nino’s harried expression and sighs. Nino can be such a shit. But if there’s anything Ohno knows about Nino, it’s that he never hurts people on purpose. He retaliates in fucking epic ways, sure, but he’s never the source of injury.

Ohno relaxes. “I think ‘really bad’ is a gross understatement, but thanks for apologising.”

“No problem.” Nino looks relieved. Then his face turns sly, and he elbows Ohno, saying:

“So, you in love with Aiba-san?”

Ohno just gapes. How. The. Fuck.

Nino waves a hand in front of Ohno’s face. “Anyone home?”

Ohno breaks into a sweat. Has he been that obvious? Who else knows? God, does _Matsumoto_ know? DOES AIBA KNOW? How the hell did Nino find out?

“Who told you?” whispers Ohno, face ashen.

“You kept looking at him for a reaction, Oh-chan. I figured it out on my own. And you didn’t pick your nose tonight, not even once. You only do that when you’re trying to impress.”

“Dammit, Nino.” Ohno massages his temples, exhausted. “This is why we broke up. I could never really be myself because you were a fucking _mind-reader_.”

The next moment Ohno is enveloped in a crushing hug.

“Finally, someone who understands!” sobs Sakurai, burying his face into Ohno’s neck. Where the fuck did he come from?

Nino looks scandalised. “Stop making me out to be the bad guy.”

Sakurai looks at Nino, slit-eyed.

“That’s debatable. Right, Ohno-san? _Right???_ ” Sakurai practically squishes their faces together.

“Sakurai-san…” Ohno squirms, slapping at Sakurai’s penguin belly to get him to ease up on his death grip.

Sakurai only holds him tighter.

“Call me Sho! We’re friends now! No, _comrades_!” proclaims Sakurai, beaming at Ohno with a watery smile.

Nino rolls his eyes.

***

“…That’s _mine_ ,” hisses Nino, pointing to Sakurai, glowering.

It takes a second for Ohno to figure out they’re talking about the penguin costume Sakurai is wearing.

“I’m pretty sure you gave it to me.” Sakurai cradles the head of the penguin in his flippers and looks back at Nino stonily.

“Yes, _I_ gave it to you.”

“That’s why it’s mine.”

“I’m not going to take any of your shit, Sho. You _stole_ it. Just went into the closet and fucking took it!” Nino flings an accusatory finger Sakurai’s way; it’s juvenile, really; but everyone can see it’s not all about the penguin costume.

“Why is he here?” Nino demands, turning to face Ohno.

“We found him stranded on the side of a motorway in Nara.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Trust me, it’s been quite a night.”

“We couldn’t just leave him there with no money or proper clothes,” Aiba speaks up.

Nino curses, spins on his heel, seethes as he stares up at the night sky.

Ohno almost claps. It’s very dramatic, very Nino-the-actor. (Nino had been the star of their drama club. It’d made sex very interesting.)

Aiba massages his temples with his fingers. “What’s going on, you two?”

“Fuck-awful breakup that involved money,” Matsumoto is lounging on the steps of the entrance of the van, and he gestures to Nino and Sakurai with his lit cigarette, “can’t you tell?”

Ohno raises his eyebrows at Nino, who’s fixed his gaze on Matsumoto now, avoiding Ohno’s stare.

Matsumoto smirks. “Evening. I’m Matsumoto.” He raises his cigarette like he’s making a toast to Nino.

“We shared an office and a life until last month,” says Sakurai in a low voice, though still loud enough for everyone to hear.

The corners of Matsumoto’s lips lift; he’s obviously pleased at hitting the nail on the head. He then catches Ohno’s eye, taps his wrist.

Right, the schedule.

“Nino,” Ohno clears his throat, “we have to go.” He motions for Nino to get into the RV.

Sakurai squares his jaw. “Thanks for the help, guys, but I think I’ll find another way to Yokohama,” he says, turning around.

Except he doesn’t go very far because he’s in a penguin suit that’s not designed for mobility; each step he takes is like, two inches.

Ohno tries not to laugh.

“No, wait,” calls Aiba, walking over to Sakurai and hooking his fingers on the edge of his collar, stopping him.

Sakurai screams.

Aiba releases him like he’s a hot poker.

“My balls, Aiba-san,” Sakurai says hoarsely, eyes watering, and Ohno covers his face, trying to mask his laugh as a cough. Through his fingers he spies Nino; Nino’s looking thoroughly mortified, very likely on Sakurai’s behalf.

Aiba apologises to Sakurai, then says:

“Look. You literally only have that penguin suit. We can’t leave you here in the middle of the highway. Come on. Get inside.”

Sakurai hesitates, knees bent, one flipper massaging his painful crotch.

Ohno really, really wants to make a quip about masturbating, flightless birds.

“It’s okay, right?” Aiba is directing his question to Nino. “If he rides with us?”

Nino has a murderous look on, but he says: “I guess.”

“Good.” Aiba nudges Sakurai towards the van, then claps a hand on Ohno’s shoulder. “I’ll drive until the next rest stop, okay?”

Ohno nods. “Thanks. Sorry about all this.”

Matsumoto backs out of the entrance to make way for everyone, calling shotgun.

Sakurai looks at Nino as he minces toward the door. “For the sake of everyone’s sanity, be civil.”

“Try giving me advice when you’re not in a penguin suit.” Nino rolls his eyes and squeezes past Sakurai’s cumbersome form, boarding the van first. Sakurai teeters, and Ohno hurriedly puts out his hands to steady him.

“Sorry,” Sakurai says, and he looks so wretched, Ohno actually feels bad for him. It’s excruciating to be embarrassed in front of an ex, Ohno understands.

Especially if that ex is Nino.

“Hang on.” Ohno takes the penguin head out of Sakurai’s hands and puts it on the table in front of Nino, who’s already seated, a scowl on his face.

Ohno then stands in the entrance, putting out his arms to Sakurai, who’s still standing on the pavement.

“Here. I’ll catch you and pull you up the steps.”

“Ohno-san…” Sakurai looks at him with so much gratitude, Ohno has to smile.

Finally they all board the van, and as it begins its journey once more, Ohno automatically walks up to the cab—when he realises Matsumoto has _called shotgun_.

Ohno isn’t a child; he isn’t going to fight Matsumoto for something as trivial as a seat, but seriously—

Matsumoto is a thieving fuck.

Ohno closes his eyes, gripping the side of the kitchen counter to stabilise himself in the moving vehicle, trying to deal with the dislike he has of the situation.

It was supposed to be just him and Aiba. Just him and Aiba on a nine-hour drive.

And here they are, stuck with three goons—two of whom are at each others’ throats, one of whom Ohno has started hating with a passion.

Ohno really doesn’t want to sit with Nino and Sakurai. There’s too much bad blood. Five hours of marinating in said blood. He’d rather eat a spoon.

A jab in his ribs makes him jump. It’s Nino.

“Sit between us,” whispers Nino, jerking a thumb in Sakurai’s direction.

“ _Hell_ no. I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.”

“There won’t be any if you’re our buffer.”

“See that penguin head on the table? Now that’s a great buff—”

Nino jabs Ohno in the ribs again. “Who wrecked my car? Who almost killed me? Who asked me not to call the cops? You owe me, Oh-chan.”

Ohno glares at Nino. Back then, Nino could be a manipulative son of a bitch when he wanted to. That certainly hasn’t changed.

“Fine.” Ohno pushes past Nino and heaves himself onto the seat, Nino sliding in after him. Sakurai crosses his flippers, face sullen.

The three of them stare at the penguin head in complete silence.

***

“Right. Sho. Sho-kun.” Ohno pries at Sho’s flippers. “Okay, this is getting weird. Stop hugging me.”

Sho releases him. “We should exchange contacts. I’d like to keep in touch with you.”

Ohno has a great idea. “I’ll give you my phone number if you make up with Nino.”

“Hey, don’t include me in your love-fest,” snaps Nino. “I’m not ready to have this guy in my life again.”

Ohno can see the hurt in Sho’s eyes. He heaves a sigh.

“Honestly—what do you guys _not_ like about each other? Individually you’re pretty decent people. Can’t you at least be friends?” 

Nino is suddenly very interested in the drinks offered by the vending machines. Sho, on the other hand, studies Ohno’s face for a long moment.

“I don’t like how detached he was,” Sho finally says. “It was like he was always waiting for something bad to happen. There was no emotional investment.”

“I was _not—_ ” Nino starts, but he’s shushed by Ohno.

“He doesn’t trust easily,” Ohno explains to Sho. “You have to earn his trust.”

Sho’s eyebrows shoot up. “For your information, I was really serious about him.”

Ohno shakes his head. “That’s not how Nino interprets trust. Right, Nino?”

Nino just sulks. “Two exes, one me. I can’t win this.”

Sho seems to be seriously considering Ohno’s words. “Nino, was I trying too hard?”

Nino scuffs his sneaker on the ground, not meeting Sho’s eyes. “Sometimes I felt like I was suffocating. You were trying to make everything work all the damn time. Like, everything had to sync. Sometimes I just wanted to just lie back and let the world pass me by, you know?”

Something in Sho’s expression shifts, and he’s looking at Nino almost tenderly.

“I never knew,” says Sho, and at this the hardness in Nino’s mouth seems to fade.

Ohno smiles to himself.

He’s a fucking love guru.

“Don’t get complacent,” comes a voice beside his ear, making him jump.

Ohno grimaces when he realises it’s Matsumoto.

Matsumoto takes a swig of his coffee, sighing in satisfaction after he swallows. “You still haven’t said what you’re going to do about Aiba-kun,” he says, a superior smile on his face.

“Have you been _eavesdropping_?” asks Ohno incredulously. “I’ve had it with you, you sneaky fu—”

Nino snaps his fingers. “That’s right, we should come up with a plan for Oh-chan!” He looks to Sho for approval, but it’s quite apparent Sho is trying to sneak away. Nino frowns at this.

“Sho, you know I didn’t design the suit for walking, right?”

“Yes, yes, but I, uh, need the loo, be right back—”

“Give him a break,” says Matsumoto slyly, nudging Nino’s arm with a finger, “he’s finding the situation awkward.”

“Oh-chan trying to get into Aiba-san’s pants isn’t awkward for Sho, what are you talking about?” scoffs Nino. “It’s not like you know Sho—”

Nino stops, realisation stark on his face.

Ohno recalls the way Sho had reacted to Matsumoto when the lights came on in the camper van.

 _You’re the guy from last night,_ Sho had said.

Wow. Sho has really been around.

Nino’s arm shoots out and he grabs the collar of Sho’s penguin suit, making Sho yelp, flippers flying to his dick for the second time that night.

“You slept with _this_?” Nino’s voice is low and threatening as he sweeps a hand up and down in Matsumoto’s direction.

Sho splutters:

“Look, Nino, we’re not together anymore so you can’t—”

“Was he any good?” interrupts Nino, and Ohno suddenly realises Nino is sounding dangerous because he’s a fucking _predator_ , and Matsumoto is the _meat_ , oh god.

Ohno takes several steps back. Call him a prude, but he’s not getting involved in this.

“We’ll talk about that later,” Ohno hears Matsumoto say to Nino, before coming up to Ohno and hooking an elbow on his arm.

“Hey, hey, we aren’t that close—” Ohno starts swatting at Matsumoto’s sleeve.

“Listen,” Matsumoto says, parking Ohno back into place beside him, “you’re the key. You’re going to complete the ring of magic.”

The three of them look at Matsumoto like he’s out of his mind.

Matsumoto waves a finger between Ohno and Nino. “You guys fucked, right?”

“That was a really long time ago—” Ohno protests, but Matsumoto cuts him off by pointing at Nino and Sho and saying:

“And these guys fucked, obviously; Sho-san and I count, I guess, though it was just one time; and no hard feelings, but me and Aiba-kun did it until January,” Matsumoto goes on, moving his finger in a loop, “so if you get it on with Aiba-kun we’ll come full circle.”

Matsumoto pauses, mostly for effect.

“Full circle,” the rest of them intone in varying degrees of interest.

“You know, after we ended things Aiba-kun wanted to quit Venus,” says Matsumoto, looking at Ohno. “He initially joined to make some quick cash because his family needed it, but something happened that made him stay.”

Ohno heart races.

“I think you happened. He couldn’t shut up about the ‘new guy at work’, honestly I think it might actually be the reason why he couldn’t put up with me anymore. His heart was someplace else.”

Ohno lets himself hope for a moment longer before trampling right down on it. He puts on a scowl. Matsumoto is just saying all this to ride the fucking magic ring or whatever it is he’s fucking tripping on.

This guy is a pretentious fuckwit, Ohno reminds himself. Spending the past five hours with him has taught Ohno that.

“I wasn’t the only new addition to Venus,” says Ohno impassively. “There’s Kazama and Inoo as well. You don’t know for sure. Quit playing with me.”

“I don’t have that kind of time to waste.” Matsumoto rolls his eyes. “Aiba-kun can be quite a dolt about his feelings. Doesn’t know what’s happening until it happens, that sorta thing. You gotta take the initiative.”

“What’s in it for you?” Ohno asks, suspicious.

“I just want a friend to be happy.” Matsumoto shrugs. “Aiba-kun’s one of the best people I know, and you’re not too bad yourself.”

At this, Sho and Nino hum and nod.

All right, maybe Matsumoto isn’t that pretentious a fuckwit.

Ohno exhales heavily.

“Fine,” Ohno concedes, “do you guys have a plan?”

***

The umeboshi and how they’re hidden shock Nino and Sho, and as it turns out, they don’t even need to lift a finger because Matsumoto has it all covered—there are workmen at the Atami container yard, just like at the warehouse.

“It’s called _organised_ crime for a reason,” Matsumoto says with a lazy grin.

Ohno almost dies laughing when some of the men tease Sho with _how much with the kinky costume, nii-chan?_ , and Sho tells them _10000 yen an hour, along with the rash._

Their faces are priceless. Ohno rewards Sho by giving him his number.

When all the plums are unloaded, they stand outside the entrance of the RV to say goodbye; Ohno and Aiba with their backs to the door and Nino and Sho facing them.

“We’re gonna fuel up at a petrol station before going back to our head office in Tokyo,” says Aiba. “You guys sure you don’t want to continue on with us?”

“Nah,” Sho and Nino say together. They look at Ohno, grinning.

Ohno gives them an exasperated look. Teenagers.

Matsumoto jogs over after conferencing with the workmen. “Everything seems to be in order. Thank you for your hard work.”

Ohno considers giving Matsumoto a smile, decides against it.

“Same to you,” says Ohno with a stiff nod.

“It’s been fun!” says Aiba brightly. “We should hang out again!”

“Ohno-kun has my number,” says Sho proudly, pointing to the phone in Ohno’s hand. “And I saved his in Nino’s phone, so now we’re all connected.”

“Great! Keep in touch!” says Aiba, climbing up the steps of the RV and waving. “Bye, you guys.”

“Bye,” parrots Ohno as he follows Aiba into the van, all the while keeping a wary eye on his other acquaintances.

“ _Bye_ ,” the three men chorus, sickeningly sweet smiles plastered on their faces; and once Aiba’s back is turned, they wiggle their eyebrows and make rude gestures with their hands and flippers while pointing to him, mouthing last minute instructions that Ohno can’t decipher but bets are fucking obscene.

Ohno gives them the finger before he shuts the door.

Now it’s just him and Aiba.

Aiba yawns. “You must be tired too, Oh-chan.”

“I’m all right.” Ohno stretches his arms over his head, feeling the wonderful sensation of popping joints. He places his phone on the table, then turns to see Aiba pushing back a curtain to peer out of the van.

Aiba taps the glass. “Look at Nino and Sakurai-kun.”

Ohno joins Aiba by the window. Nino has his hand on Sho’s shoulder; Sho’s flipper is on Nino’s ass.

“They’re totally gonna fuck in a hotel after this,” murmurs Ohno.

“Totally.”

They watch as Nino looks to Matsumoto and snakes an arm around him. Aiba gasps.

“Oh my god, they’re totally asking Matsujun to swing with them.”

Aiba spins around, not looking tired anymore. 

“Oh-chan, we should go.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“They’re gonna have sex together. We should join them. It’ll be fun.”

What is this shitty turn of events?

Ohno tries to entertain the idea, but he can’t stand the thought of sharing a naked Aiba with anyone else, though he’s acutely aware of how Aiba has just included him in plans to fuck.

Ohno steels himself.

“No.”

“Why not?” whines Aiba.

Ohno grapples for the answer, heart pounding. “I really don’t want to.”

“Then I’ll go. We’re not scheduled to be back in Tokyo until twelve.” Aiba pats his pockets to check for his phone and wallet, stops to look at Ohno. “Are you going to stay here or go outside?”

Oh, fuck it. 

Ohno grabs Aiba’s wrist. “You’re not going.”

Their eyes meet, and Ohno impulsively tugs Aiba towards him.

Aiba’s face is now very close, and Ohno’s intentions have become very plain.

“You’re not going,” repeats Ohno. “You’re staying here with me.”

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck did he just say—

Lips curving, Aiba slips his arms around Ohno’s waist; at this range Ohno can see Aiba’s pupils dilating and it’s the sexiest thing Ohno has ever seen the human eye do, oh god.

“And?” challenges Aiba.

Ohno doesn’t waste any more time; he shoves his hands past the waistband of Aiba’s pants, cursing in delight against Aiba’s lips as he discovers Aiba’s ass is as perfect as he imagined it, and they don’t even bother to check if the curtains are closed, they’re just removing random articles of clothing, off themselves, off each other, and Aiba’s mouth is _everywhere on his skin_ , oh god, Ohno’s brain can’t really keep up, _this is actually happening_.

They get themselves onto the bed and Aiba _fucking climbs on top of him_ ; Ohno is trembling as he splays his fingers on the back of Aiba’s thighs, he’s not even trying to hide his hunger; he’s wanted this for how many weeks now?

Ohno positions a couple of pillows under his head, drags Aiba’s hips down toward his face and starts getting busy when the door to the RV swings open.

“Hey guys, we forgot the—oh, _fuck_ , you guys just couldn’t wait, could you—”

Nino enters the van anyway.

“For fuck’s sake, Nino!” Aiba yells, evacuating Ohno’s mouth and tugging the covers over them. “Get out!”

Ohno realises Aiba is genuinely pissed off. It’s the first time he’s seeing Aiba angry, and it actually gets him rock hard—when did he become so easy?

“Won’t be long, won’t be long, just need the controls—”

Their brazen intruder joins the sides of his hands to make a shield for his eyes, takes a long stride and reaches under the kitchen table, grabs the stupid penguin head (how the _fuck_ did they miss that hideous thing?) and dashes out with a muttered apology.

The door slams shut.

Ohno looks at Aiba worriedly, then back at the door.

Aiba’s agreement is tacit; he slides off the bed, reaches out toward the lock—

The door flies open.

“ _What the_ —” Aiba starts when he sees Matsumoto, but all Matsumoto does is grab Aiba’s hand, slap two condoms and a tube of Astroglide into his palm, wink at Ohno, then he’s gone.

Aiba hurriedly locks the door and shuts the lone open curtain. He looks down at the condoms and lube, then up at Ohno.

Aiba licks his lips nervously and offers Ohno a weak smile.

Ohno gets Aiba’s apprehension. The interruptions have broken their pace; they’re actually thinking this through now. It doesn’t make Ohno less enthusiastic, though—now that he knows Aiba wants him, he doesn’t feel so scared.

For confirmation, Ohno shifts his eyes down Aiba’s torso.

Fuck yeah, Aiba still wants him.

Ohno crawls to the edge of the mattress, reaches out to take Aiba’s hand, pulling him back towards the bed. He takes the condoms and lube from Aiba, puts them carefully beside the pillows. Those can wait.

Aiba seats himself on the bed and crosses his legs. “It doesn’t have to be serious, you know. We can just have fun. Then, if it’s weird, we can pretend it never happened. You know, like with Matsujun.”

Aiba laughs, and Ohno knows that in normal circumstances, he’d be offended by his feelings being thought of as ‘fun’, and being classed with Matsumoto; but he doesn’t, because this is Aiba. Ohno knows Aiba’s just trying to be brave, trying to prepare a way out for himself so he doesn’t get too hurt.

Ohno gets it, because he is the same.

Ohno is about to reply when a loud clacking coming from the kitchen makes both of them swivel their heads towards the noise; it’s his phone vibrating on the tabletop.

Was the whole world bent on cockblocking them?

“Listen,” says Ohno, placing his palms on Aiba’s knees, deciding to ignore his phone. It stops buzzing, thank god.

Aiba turns back to look at him.

“I like you,” says Ohno, amazed at how easily the words come. “I’ve liked you for a while now.”

There’s a flush that’s spreading on Aiba’s chest, and Ohno instinctively places his hand on it, feels Aiba’s ribcage swell as he takes a deep breath to say:

“I like you too.”

Ohno recalls the touches, ‘Oh-chan’, the too-cheerful way Aiba had reacted when Nino told everyone in the van they used to have a thing, what Matsumoto said about Aiba not being able to shut up about him.

Whoa.

Aiba _does_ like him back.

“Is it weird that I’ve just realised this?” asks Aiba breathlessly.

Ohno shakes his head. “Is it weird that I want to promise you everything?”

Fuck. Oh, glorious fuck. Who the fuck says things like that—

“ _Oh-chan_ ,” says Aiba, voice quavering, and then Ohno realises Aiba is smiling, and god, the feelings, the _hope_ ; Ohno can’t stomach it all.

“So right now, this is… This is…” Aiba sounds excited, but in his voice there’s also a trace of fear, Ohno thinks, fear of vocalising the truth because Aiba’s probably realised where they can go with this and how far they can take it.

Ohno holds Aiba’s hand.

“This is only the beginning,” whispers Ohno, before taking Aiba’s shoulders and kissing him against the pillows.

***

**Epilogue:**

Ohno loves to stroke his thumb on the underside of Aiba’s wrist.

Aiba wonders if Ohno notices he’s doing it. It happens when they’re partnered up on a job and alone for hours, no matter if Ohno’s driving or not. It happens when they’re sitting side by side on a boat waiting for fish to bite, when they’re at the movies, when they’re waiting in line at Disney Sea. It happens in bed, mostly before they fall asleep, whether or not they have sex.

Right now they’re in an Airport Limousine Bus on the way to Narita. It was Ohno’s idea to spend their year-end bonus on a trip to the Maldives, celebrate Aiba’s Christmas Eve birthday twice. He’s looking out the window, absentmindedly moving the pad of his thumb back and forth on Aiba’s pulse point.

Aiba removes his earphones and wriggles in his seat to face Ohno.

“Question,” says Aiba, jiggling his hand to make his point, “why do you like fingering my wrist so much?”

“Hm?”

“You do this a lot.” Aiba takes Ohno’s wrist and copies the action. “It’s like the second favourite thing you like to do with your hands. The first is picking your nose. That, I wish you’d stop.”

Ohno laughs. “I don’t do it with the same hand.”

“I know, I’ve noticed.”

Ohno strokes Aiba’s wrist, thoughtfully this time. “So you don’t like this?”

“It’s not that. I’m just wondering why.”

There’s a quirk in Ohno’s lips as he looks down at Aiba’s hand in his.

“It’s the only part of your body that extends your heartbeat out to me; it’s like your heart is reaching for me. I like that.”

Aiba is taken aback by the simplicity of Ohno’s explanation. He thinks he might cry.

“I love you,” blurts Aiba, tearing up for real now.

Ohno takes one look at him and starts blinking rapidly. His eyes turn wet.

“Aw, fuck. We’re not even drunk.” Ohno lightly thumps Aiba’s head and gives a soft chuckle. “I love you too.”

Aiba responds by burrowing into his seat so he can snuggle under Ohno’s chin and touch his nose to his jaw.

“Oh, get a fucking room,” Nino says from the row across theirs. He nudges Sho with his elbow and points at Aiba and Ohno. “Were we ever like that?”

“I don’t think we could’ve been like them even if we tried,” Sho ruffles the newspaper he’s reading, gives Nino a wry smile, “They’re beautiful and cute on the inside, and we’re… us. Or rather, you’re you.”

“Eat shit, Sakurai.”

“Nino. You fought me bitterly over the custody of a _sex toy_.”

“That penguin suit cost a bajillion yen to make, Sho. I’d like to think that was worth fighting for.”

“So you do get it when I say ‘you’re you’, right?”

“Stop it, you two,” says Jun from behind. He’s stretched out on the last row. “If you upset these guys they might change their minds about having sex with us. Think about it—sex in a fucking Maldives resort. Is this argument worth dashing that dream?”

They all stop to think.

“Man, I really pity whoever’s listening in to our conversation,” says Aiba. “Must be traumatic.”

The rest of the passengers on the bus fidget, clear their throats, cough and push the ear plugs further into their children’s ears.

“ _I’m a very bad boy_ ,” sings Ohno out of the blue, and all five of them crack up.


End file.
